Age of Smoke Part 1: The Autobot Code

Chapter 7: Prisoners

"Once you take this location we can force them to retreat further, and we'll have the city within a decaorn."

"Got it," Ironhide commed back, keeping his optics on the fortress-like building he and his mecha were trying to capture. The 'Cons had snipers up on the roof, and big mounted weapons on the ground, so securing the position was proving difficult.

They pushed forward and were driven back again. He watched the mech standing next to him go down and spared a moment for anger before forcing himself to be calm again.

They would win soon.

And it wouldn't do any good. They would let the Decepticons go, and the 'Cons would come back and kill more mecha another orn. He was tired of that—tired of fighting this war the hard way.

"Prowl?"

"Yes?"

"This time… I know Prime doesn't want us taking prisoners…"

"That's correct."

"But if we take prisoners then we don't have to worry about them in the next battle. Red Alert has a big detainment center built right? For the express purpose of keeping Decepticon prisoners. We have room for them."

"All of that is also correct."

"And if Optimus complains we can just tell him the 'Cons are safer behind bars than on the battlefield. Fewer of them will offline. He really can't argue with that."

"Taking prisoners instead of allowing the Decepticons to retreat will likely result in more initial deaths and we can't hold them hostage forever."

"But we can trade them for our own mecha," Ironhide said.

They had left a lot of injured soldiers behind when they had retreated from Helex.

Prowl didn't respond to that, so Ironhide turned his focus entirely to the battle. He ducked out from the low wall he'd been hiding behind and shot at a 'Con up on the roof of the building.

His blast hit and he commed a couple of sub-units. "Get in close and take out those ground turrets. Unit delta alpha, take the left one. Unit delta gamma take the right. Everyone else up! Give them some cover! Now!"

Autobots popped up from the rubble around the 'Con stronghold and released a wave of ammunition at it. Decepticon soldiers dived behind their fortifications as two units broke off and drove toward the building.

Ironhide kept track of them. Unit delta alpha dodged and weaved their way toward their weapon. The other unit stayed too bunched together and an energon blast from the machine they were trying to take out scattered them. They left two behind on the ground.

Delta alpha managed to neutralize the first weapon.

"Sir, we can try to get to the other one too," the unit leader said.

"Do it," Ironhide said, then called for unit delta gamma to try and keep drawing the weapon's fire.

Prowl spoke through the comm. again. "Exchanging prisoners is a decent idea, but I'm not sure Megatron will cooperate. Furthermore, while I agree with you about the prisoners, are you really suggesting we go behind Optimus's back?"

"I'm suggesting we use good battle tactics," Ironhide said. "Taking prisoners is a good idea, no matter what. And you don't have to run every tactical decision by him, do you?"

Prowl was silent.

Another powerful explosion took out the second big weapon.

"Forward! Take the front doors!" Ironhide vaulted over the low wall he'd been crouched behind, and charged in root mode, still firing up at the roof to keep the remaining snipers' helms down.

Then he spoke to the tactician. "Look, Prowl, he'll never be willing to take prisoners until he sees how effective it is. If we let them retreat every time, we'll draw this war out until there's nothing left to fight over."

"That's an exaggeration, but you have a point."

"I'll take the blame for it if you—"

"I can face the consequences of my own decisions, thank you," Prowl said. "And I agree. We should take some prisoners this time beyond arresting the injured Decepticons who are left behind."

Good.

"Optimus insists on playing too conservative a game. We shouldn't… perhaps we could ask him about it."

"I think you know what his answer would be," Ironhide said. "Let's take prisoners this time and then show him that it works out better for everyone in the end."

"All right," Prowl said.

The Autobots at the front managed to get the doors open and they flooded in to fight the enemy soldiers in the hallways inside.

"I can hear the fighting," Sideswipe said.

Sunstreaker nodded.

"They're close."

They'd spent the last several orns sneaking around, gathering intel, operating as scouts rather than warriors.

It was boring.

Eventually, they'd been deposited in an empty building and told to wait until the Autobot line had passed them so they could be assigned to a new unit.

"Let's go," Sideswipe said.

"I don't think they've passed us."

"He said until they reach us, not until they pass us."

Sideswipe met his brother's gaze and felt his hesitation.

"Look, I'm sick of sitting here doing nothing and I know you are too. We can ambush the 'Cons from behind. It'll be epic."

Sunstreaker heaved a sigh but got to his pedes. "You are going to get us killed one of these orns. If not by the 'Cons then by the commanders, when they realize we're disobeying orders again."

"Hey, every time we disobey orders, it works out for the best. Come on—I bet that Praxian would tell us to do this if he was paying attention."

"Sure," Sunstreaker said.

The sounds of conflict—blaster fire, shouting, explosions—were getting closer.

Sideswipe led the way to the door of the little building they were in. He listened carefully, trying to determine the direction of the battle.

"So," Sunstreaker said. "We'll need to make sure we can tell the Autobots from the 'Cons. If we can see the lines, we can shoot the 'Cons from behind. They'll notice us and probably start shooting at us. And then the Autobots will be able to take them down, but it'll put us in a difficult situation, because we'll have both sides pointing guns in our direction."

"Yep," Sideswipe said. "So we'll want to make sure we've got good cover.

Sunstreaker nodded.

"And we'll want to try to make it very clear what side we're on."

"Yep."

"Let's go," Sideswipe let his brother take the lead this time, and they crept out of the building toward the sounds of fighting.

They came to a major street and stopped while Sunstreaker carefully checked around the corner, then quickly pulled his helm back. "Hmmm…"

"What?"

"The 'Cons are retreating this way. We can't sneak up on them."

Sideswipe grinned. "Not from behind. We can ambush them from the side, though."

Sunstreaker nodded and pulled out a long energon blade.

The first couple of alt modes screamed past. Sideswipe glanced at his brother and Sunstreaker nodded.

He jumped out into the road, firing, dodging an alt while several others swerved around him or stopped.

"They've surrounded us!" he heard someone yell, and suddenly the road was a mess of confusion as some kept fleeing and others transformed to root mode to fight. The pursuing Autobots caught up to them. Blasterfire streaked out in all directions as the two sides intermingled. Sideswipe traded his guns for an integrated blade which was better in close quarters, but it didn't seem like everyone had the same idea. He felt something hit him and moved almost instantly so that he was back to back with Sunstreaker in the melee.

They got a comm. from command and Sideswipe knew better than to avoid answering. He was pretty sure they'd fragged this up big time.

"What are you doing!?" Prowl's voice said.

"Sorry, sir," Sideswipe said as he relieved a 'Con of his helm and then blocked a heavy laser shot with his dripping blade. The energon on it ignited, exploding and sending him stumbling back into Sunstreaker. "We just thought we'd ambush them from the side."

By the time he'd gotten his balance again the skirmish was pretty much over. He watched as the last of the 'Cons was taken down. The street was littered with frames wearing both insignias.

"I did not order you to attack—I ordered you to stay put until the line had passed and you could be reassigned. For this, I should have you discharged. All those mecha in that street would still be online if it weren't for you. Let that rest on your sparks." Prowl cut the comm.

Sideswipe looked around at the carnage again, trying to count the Autobot casualties.

"You two!" A mech came over. "Who are you? What unit are you from?"

"We…"

The mech held up a hand, cutting them off. He got a concentrating look on his faceplate like he was receiving a comm.

"Never mind," he said after a few astroseconds. "The two of you head the coordinates that will be sent to you and wait for instructions there."

"Yes sir," Sideswipe said, noting the extra markings in the mech's insignia that designated him as the leader of the unit.

He got a set of coordinates through the comm, and he and Sunstreaker transformed and started heading that way, leaving the remains of the unit they'd interfered with to clean up their mess.

Primus, they were in so much trouble. And, as usual, they deserved it.

Defensor wasn't fast enough to keep up with the retreating Decepticons. They stumbled forward, calling out for their fellow soldiers to wait, but it was in vain. Their left leg gave out and they sank to one knee as they were surrounded and peppered with blaster fire.

They were going to die.

Then the weapons fire stopped. They looked up to see they were still surrounded. They couldn't fight their way out.

They had to fight their way out.

No—if they fought they'd surely be killed.

"Stand down and separate," someone shouted from behind. "Surrender or we'll blow you to pit."

Defensor hesitated. Part of them wanted to keep fighting, but they were hurt. They couldn't. They couldn't…

It was hard, frightening. They were whole now—and being separate beings was a painful concept.

But their other option was to be forcefully broken apart.

Separating hurt even more than combining had. Hot Spot landed on his hands and knees, venting hard while the agony in his spark faded. Exhaustion tied him to the ground, pulling him down, but he fought it off and dragged himself to his pedes.

Someone had to make sure the others were all right.

He looked around at the by a ring of charged weapons and angry faceplates, searching for his brothers. Groove was also getting to his pedes, so Hot Spot sent him a comm. "Help Streetwise. I'll get First Aid."

Groove nodded and went over to Streetwise, who was still struggling to get to his hands and knees.

"Hey," an angry-looking mech who might be in charge of the Autobot unit said. "Don't move!"

"Look," Hot Spot said, pressing a hand against a leaking gash in his arm. "We'll come quietly. It's not like we can fight."

The mech didn't look convinced, but no one shot at Hot Spot as he went to check on First Aid. He was pretty sure, from the way that the bond felt, that the youngling was unconscious. One of his arms ended in an energon-stained stump, and he had burns and dents and scratches, but he didn't look like he ought to be unconscious.

There must be something else wrong with him.

"Come on," the Autobot who seemed to be in charge said. "Let's move."

Hot Spot lifted First Aid, slung him over one shoulder, and went with the others, flanked by Autobot soldiers on all sides.

Blades walked in front—alert, uneasy, and almost… protective? Hot Spot was surprised to feel so much concern coming from the mech, though he wasn't sure if Blades was worried about them or his own safety.

Groove and Streetwise were walking behind Hot Spot. He could tell from the little spikes of agony coming over the bond that Streetwise was very badly hurt.

They started to fall behind.

"Hey," Hot Spot whispered. "Blades. Slow down."

The mech didn't acknowledge him but did slow his pace until the Autobots started urging them to hurry up.

Hot Spot wondered what the next few orns would bring. It probably wouldn't be pleasant, though it couldn't be worse than what Shockwave had done to them.

He felt First Aid stir as they walked, and then wake. The mechling was in a lot of pain. His spark chamber throbbed every time Hot Spot took a step.

"Hot Spot?" he moaned.

"Don't worry," Hot Spot whispered back. "We'll be okay."

"Did we…? Did I get us captured?"

"No, it's not your fault."

"Is Streetwise going to be okay?"

"Yeah, he'll be fine."

First Aid could probably tell Hot Spot was lying, but he didn't say anything. They walked in silence for a few astroseconds."

"Hot Spot?"

"Mhmm?"

"I'm… I'm going to…"

"Okay," Hot Spot said. "Let me set you down." He stopped and knelt on the ground so he could shift First Aid off of his shoulders.

"Hey!" the Autobot said.

"Give us an astrosecond," Hot Spot glared at him as First Aid got to his hands and knees and started emptying his tanks on the battle-scarred ground.

The mech glared back—if a little uncertainly.

Hot Spot broke the gaze, looking down, then back to see how Groove and Streetwise were doing. Streetwise had a gaping hole in his side and burns all over and was leaking heavily. Groove stood on his good side, supporting him.

When First Aid was done, he let Hot Spot help him to his pedes and leaned on him as they shuffled forward again.

"Let me know if you need me to carry you."

First Aid nodded slightly.

Their hostile entourage led them to a big courtyard that was a bustling hub of activity full of injured mecha and Decepticon prisoners in stasis cuffs.

"Okay!" a femme was saying. "Bridge opens in three breems. Everyone who needs to go through, get ready. That's injured first, then prisoners."

She saw their group and came over.

"What is this?" she asked as she approached. "Where did you take these prisoners from, captain?"

"These mechs are a combiner," the mech in charge said. "They came quietly. Aren't we supposed to capture those?"

The femme frowned, and Hot Spot suddenly worried the Autobots would just decide to kill them, but then she nodded. "Very well. Leave them here and we'll send them through. Someone come get some stasis cuffs on these prisoners."

First Aid leaned on him and Hot Spot put a protective arm around his brother. "Just a bit further, okay mechling?"

First Aid didn't answer.

They needed a medic.

Of course, all the Autobot medics would be working on Autobots right now.

A couple of mechs came over and Blades scowled, but let them cuff him. Then they moved to First Aid and pulled him away from Hot Spot.

"Know how you do it if they're missing a hand?" one Autobot asked in a casual tone. The other shook his helm slightly. "If you lengthen them a little, you can also put them above the elbows. It's a little less comfortable, but it holds pretty well." He started to demonstrate.

"Wait!" Streetwise said, suddenly lurching forward. "Ahhh! No! You can't cuff him!"

The stasis cuffs shut and activated. Hot Spot gasped as lightning ripped through him. The others cried out as well, and First Aid collapsed. One of the Autobots caught him before he hit the ground.

"What the pit?" he said, and glanced at the other Autobot before hesitantly taking the cuffs off again.

First Aid didn't wake up, and Hot Spot felt weak and shaky.

They cuffed him and Groove, but left Streetwise alone—actually, one of them helped Streetwise back to his pedes and the other picked First Aid up, which was good because even without the stasis cuffs, Hot Spot wouldn't have been strong enough to carry him again.

A groundbridge opened, and the femme directed traffic through it. Hot Spot and his brothers got to go in right after the injured Autobots, but they were taken to a prison instead of a medbay. He, Groove, and Blades were locked in one cell and their stasis cuffs were removed. Then the Autobots deposited the two injured mecha in an adjacent cell and left them.

By that point, Hot Spot was too exhausted to protest the arrangement, or even to ask Streetwise to check and see how First Aid was doing. He sat down against the cell wall and let himself shut down.

Sideswipe stopped at the coordinates they'd been given and transformed back to root mode. Sunstreaker followed suit and they stood waiting for a breem or two. Sideswipe did feel bad. If they'd waited a little longer, everything would have been fine and they wouldn't be in trouble. Sunstreaker didn't say "I told you so," but Sideswipe could feel him thinking it.

He was about to ask if Sunstreaker knew what they were supposed to do next when a mech walked over.

"Are you two Sideswipe and Sunstreaker?"

"Yep," Sideswipe said.

"You're going back to Iacon. You just missed the last bridge, but there'll be another one in ten breems. Wait here until then."

Going back to Iacon? They were getting pulled out of the battle. Primus, what if they got kicked out of the Autobots?

Sideswipe glanced at his brother.

"If you wander off, I'm not coming," Sunstreaker said.

"Don't worry," Sideswipe said. "I feel thoroughly humbled. I'm not going anywhere."

Sunstreaker snorted.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Silence fell again.

"I'm going to get yelled at because of you," Sunstreaker said.

"Sorry about that." Of course that was what Sunstreaker was upset about.

"No, I should have stopped you."

Sideswipe sighed. "Maybe next time we should stay with our unit."

Sunstreaker glanced at him. "You said that last time too."

Sideswipe looked up at the hazy sky. Red for war; red for Decepticon optics. Blue for energon on the ground. "I guess I did."

Pit, Sideswipe had gotten mecha offlined. He'd gotten Autobots offlined.

They didn't speak for the rest of the time they were waiting for the groundbridge.

When it opened, they were herded through along with a bunch of injured mecha and a few Decepticon prisoners. Then they were sent in a different direction from the other two groups. They were led through the halls by a grumpy old mech. It didn't take long for Sideswipe to realize that they were headed to the all-too-familiar Autobot detention cells.

He didn't complain though—at least not out loud.

They were led down the narrow stairs and through the dim hallway. Sideswipe glanced into the cells as they walked past. Mostly empty, but was that… a seeker?

They put Sideswipe in the cell next to the seeker, but closed it and gestured for Sunstreaker to take the next one over.

"Hang on," Sideswipe said. "We're supposed to be in the same—"

"Not this time," the old mech said and prodded Sunstreaker toward the next cell and out of sight.

The cells were open bars at the front, but the sides were solid so you felt like you were all alone. Sideswipe could sense his brother in the next cell, but still...

He waited for the cranky old mech to leave before sitting against the wall with a sigh. The cell was narrow enough that he could rest his pedes on the other wall.

"You know," he said. "Maybe we should just bring our stuff down here. We practically live in this place."

Sunstreaker huffed.

"Hey," Sideswipe said, suddenly remembering why he'd wanted to find a seeker. "Mech, are you one of the Autobot seekers?"

"What?" Sunstreaker asked.

"Not you," Sideswipe said, tapping on the far wall with his pedes. "This mech."

There was no answer.

"Come on," Sideswipe said. "I've been meaning to find one of you mechs. I need some help with something."

"Go get fragged," the mech in the next cell said.

Unfriendly Autobot seeker. Well, Sideswipe figured he would be unfriendly too if he was a seeker and someone had stuck him in a narrow little cell you could barely stand up in.

"How'd you get put down here anyway?" he asked.

No answer.

"Cuz that's not slagging right. I'll talk to the next guard who comes in here, see if I can convince him to let you out. I know seekers don't like small spaces."

"Shut up."

"I'm really bad at that," Sideswipe said. "It's probably not going to happen. What's your designation?"

"Just leave me alone!"

"Come on, talk, it'll probably help."

The mech let out a string of swearwords that trailed off into a sort of gasping, hyperventilating sound.

"Just shut up, Sides," Sunstreaker said. "I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to talk."

Sideswipe frowned. He really did need to make connections with an Autobot seeker. He'd made a promise to the Wreckers and he needed their help to keep it.

But Sunstreaker was right about this one. Sideswipe settled back against the wall to try and think of a better way to befriend him.

As if they somehow knew that things were going to be different this time, the Decepticons retreated before they'd even really lost. But if they thought it was going to be easy to get away, they were wrong. Prowl cut some groups of them off, letting others slip past after showing them that he was letting them go.

There had been some mistakes. There had been more casualties than absolutely necessary. There were new deaths on Prowl's helm, but he was getting used to that.

He watched everything unfold, guiding where he could, delegating extraneous tasks and some of the processing work to his mecha as he led the final charge. In a sense, he was the whole Autobot army. Each soldier only saw a tiny part, but he could see the bigger picture in all of its vast complexity, viewed through cameras and reports and statistics.

They captured almost a third of the remaining Decepticons in the city, which was about as many as Red Alert would be able to fit in his prisons. They'd also brought down several combiners and captured one, which was a rare victory. It seemed that when one or two of the members offlined, the rest always went with them.

Once the last of the Decepticon forces had surrendered, Prowl commed Optimus.

"Yes, Prowl?"

"Blaster City is fully under our control. Clean-up should take a little longer than normal, but once I've handled that and Ironhide is back, we should have a meeting to discuss some things."

"Thank you for the report. This is wonderful news."

Prowl tried to push down his guilt as he directed his soldiers to take the Decepticon prisoners toward the base in sector two of the city-state.

He couldn't hide what he'd done. Perhaps it was better if Optimus heard it from him. "Prime, sir?" he said over the still-open comm.

"Yes? Prowl, you know you can call me Optimus."

"Prime, sir," Prowl said again. "Things went differently this time…"

Optimus was silent for a moment so Prowl continued.

"We took quite a few prisoners. Nearly two thousand, actually."

"Very well…" Optimus said, "I believe Red Alert has accommodations for a large number of prisoners. If not, then perhaps you could release some of them and allow them to retreat with their—"

"No, sir," Prowl said. "It was intentional. We took the prisoners as they were retreating. I would like to discuss this decision I've made with you and the other officers in a meeting."

There was silence for a few astroseconds.

"I see," Optimus said. Prowl couldn't tell if he was angry. "I will schedule a meeting for some time in the next three joors."

"I will be there, Sir," Prowl said, trying not to let any nervousness into his simulated voice.

Optimus cut the comm. and Prowl distracted himself by making assignments for clean-up. They needed to sweep the streets for surviving injured, identify the dead, round up any Decepticons who had missed the retreat, and then finally help clear some rubble and station mecha there to help enforcement for a few decaorns. The Blaster City Council had officially allied themselves with the Autobots in consequence of the battle, so they could work together with relief forces from inside the city-state.

"Prowl, Sir?"

It took Prowl a moment to register that someone was talking to him. He looked up from his work to see that it was the new mech, Fizzle.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for making use of my suggestion, sir."

"Your…?"

"Yes, the suggestion that we should take more prisoners this time. I think that it went well, don't you?"

Prowl frowned, thinking back. He hadn't been acting on this mech's suggestion, but it had gone well. "Yes, it did." He considered redistributing his processor power so he could devote more to this conversation, but he had more important things to care about.

"If I might ask a question, though."

"Yes?" Prowl frowned. If Fizzle tried to start another conversation about Prowl's age or some other trivial thing...

"Why haven't we done this in previous battles?" Fizzle said. "Surely someone's thought of it, right? It seems a pretty basic element of strategy—an obvious thing to do. Taking prisoners?"

The room went silent. Now, not only was he trying to take credit for the outcome of this battle, he was practically accusing Prowl of incompetence.

And Prowl was stuck. He had no desire to inform them that Optimus had refused to listen to reason on this subject in the past and he had even less desire to tell them that he and Ironhide had disobeyed the Prime. There was no satisfying explanation.

"I am not obligated to discuss that with you," Prowl said. "And in any case, this is not the time. Return to your work."

Fizzle looked for a moment like he would protest, but then he simply turned back to his computer. Prowl shuttered his optics for a moment, relieved that he'd been able to deal with that without an argument.